


Crystal Creek (Midevil!Lock)

by Josephine_221B



Series: The Sherlolly Alphabet [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Prince Sherlock, Sherlolly - Freeform, cuteness, midevillock!, mollock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-01 09:34:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20812937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Josephine_221B/pseuds/Josephine_221B
Summary: While evading socializing with citizens, Prince William Sherlock Scott Holmes catches a beautiful woman breaking the law by teaching herself to read.





	Crystal Creek (Midevil!Lock)

**Author's Note:**

> C of the Sherlolly Alphabet
> 
> Crystal Creek

The first time Sherlock had seen her was purely accidental. He had been evading the ball his elder brother was holding to find his bride, though the siblings both knew the female book keeper Anthea was the one. 

The scent of pine and the quiet serenade of the nearby creek had helped calm him. He had nearly forgotten his prior engagements and drove to find the creek as to wash his feet in it. The distance from this particular creek was rather far from the palace, and Sherlock hadn't wanted a horse for fear of tracking. Not that the soil would give him away, but the stable boy, Philip Anderson, was a sot. He always spoke of where the royalty was going, despite the attempts to bribe him on Sherlock's part. When he approached the small thatch of bushes hardly covering the water, he heard a gentle voice speak against the current. Being cautious of being discovered, as it was no place for a gentleman or prince to be floundering about, he went behind a pair of trees knitted tightly together. There was a small space for which he could peer into the direction. 

"I wo- wan- won- darred. Won- darred. Derred, won-dered, wondered a-about my room w-with a speh- kill. No, that's not right. It's a c, um shual. Spec-shual, special way a-a-bout my step," Sherlock began to feel himself role his eyes at the man's lack of reading abilities, but when he peeked over to spot the man, he only saw a beautiful woman instead. 

She wore a plain brown dress, presumably one of a poorer family, that tied round her waist but hung like a potato sack. Through folds, he could see she held a slim but strong frame. Her hair was a brown, almost red in certain lights. Mesmerizing. It was tied back as well with a white cloth to keep hairs from her eyes. She had herself perched on a small rock near the creek, embedded between two trees larger than the ones Sherlock was on. He himself quickly noted the advantage of her spot, if she was to be seen she could easily recluse without a soul noting her. In her dainty hands, she had a very small book, barely four inches tall. Sherlock quickly released she was teaching herself to read, but had to hide it. Women were not allowed an education, and this one was very certain she was going to get one. She had some experience though, Sherlock could tell by her knowledge of the alphabet. Not many women knew what an alphabet was because of their lack of teachings. A mother, more likely a father. Deceased, no doubt, as a slim good ring hung from round her neck, tucked in her bosom. One of her fingers had slid the ring out and toyed with it while she tried to read.

He suddenly found her struggle with the words not as incompetent, and developed a respect for her. 

"Lud- ugh - lud I Christ, no. No t, lud I cris. Lud I crous. That doesn't sound right, no it's-"

"It's ludicrous," Sherlock's voice scared the woman, though she couldn't see him. His words were soft but firm and the girl was too scared to look for the source. She fumbled with the book, pulling her top open to slid the book to rest on her stomach. The dress was so baggy it wasn't noticeable at all, unless she pressed her breasts together to create a creamy - Sherlock blinked rapidly. His thoughts diverting to such inane things were rare and stupid, so he bit his lip to stop himself from imagining further. She took off, running much swifter than he'd think a woman her size capable. He wanted to follow her and discover her name, but he decided he had given her a large enough fright today.

With a smirk toying on his lips, Sherlock headed back for the palace.

...

After a few days, he decided to return to the creek. Not only had an opportunity failed to arise, but the woman would not be daft enough to return so swiftly after nearly being discovered. He had learned through some investigating that the creek was called Crystals Creek. Lots of legends of nude women bathing themselves in glittering gems or strong men defeating centaurs came up and Sherlock hadn't cared for them. 

He decided he did not want the woman to know of his status yet. While the moon cast its silver glow, he had requested his head doctor and best friend John Watson, to acquire some of his clothes for Sherlock to borrow. Watson had taken some convincing, but retrieved the fabrics for Sherlock. They were nicer than most of the commonwealths, but had the appearance of normality. He figured she wouldn't notice the extra stitching that set the two clothing styles apart. It was a simple tan shirt with large shapeless sleeves like the ones of royalty wore, dark brown pants that stopped mid shin for Sherlock due to his lean stature rather John's stout one. If it hadn't been for the knee length leather boots Sherlock had already planned to use, the pants would not have worked. With a velvet black cloak he added to wrap round himself in case of the cold, Sherlock tucked the items into a saddle bag. He then removed three bricks from the outside of his bedroom window after climbing out. Sherlock stuffed the bag into the space he frequently used, and placed the bricks perfectly into place. After this, he returned to bed as though he had done nothing of the previous sort. 

Mycroft, his elder brother, had a planned meeting with the king of Appledore to discuss their tradings on information. Sherlock hadn't really cared for it, but knew he had to speak with his daughter, the supposedly beautiful Jeanine. 

As he spotted through his bedroom window the carriage approaching, he gently slid from it. He made sure to close the window and propped the door to appear he had escaped through there. Sherlock collected his bag and rushed into the woods before he could be spotted. After walking for a bit, Sherlock changed into his commonwealth clothes to appear normal for the sake of the woman. 

The trek was lengthy, as it had been the first time he saw her. The gentle crashing of water against rocks reminded him of her. He rushed to see her, to glimpse at her beauty before speaking to her.

There she was, perched on the same rock he viewed her on last time. Her hair was free this time, not tied behind that white cloth. The outfit was the same, though the dress had been ironed and her hair had been washed four times indicating a desire to impress. Sherlock's jaw twitched slightly at the fact she might have bathed more than normal for another man. The bags under her eyes showed it was probably not a man she liked, more one of authority that she had to look exceedingly well for. Not like she wasn't already beautiful. Her hair was straight with soft gentle curls that came from her natural hair. The white fabric usually tied round her head sat in her lap as she began to read her novel aloud.

"I'm impressed, malady," Sherlock said gingerly as he stepped into her view. He'd waited a few minutes to hear her speak, trying to let the impression of this being the first time they'd seen one another. "It's rare to find a woman of such intellect."

"Who are you?" She said harshly, standing stark still with her book hidden behind her. She was a woman of safety.

"Sherlock. My name is Sherlock." He hesitated, almost saying his given name William. That's what everybody called him, but he figured his middle name would work just well. "I was walking along the bank," his gaze cornered her despite the creek providing a distance. "And I heard a voice speaking. I didn't approach you initially, I didn't feel the need to scare you." 

The woman held her head high. "I appreciate your thoughtfulness," she chose her words carefully. "Will you be speaking of this to anyone else?"

"No malady, I do not desire to hurt you. I'd like to help you. I believe everyone deserves a proper education, we shouldn't get bothered by the sex or race." 

She softened at this, clearly agreeing with him in a way she thought no other would. "If only that arsehole of a king would move on with it. His sons are no help either, both lazy sods I hear. Oh!" Her hands flew to her mouth to cover it, loose lips sink ships. "I'm sorry, please don't say anything!"

Sherlock chuckled. "Not to worry malady. I work for the youngest brother, William. He and his brother are arses. Prince William isn't too bad, but he does have a knack for ignoring those around him." 

She blushed. "I am Margaret, those close to me call me Molly."

"May I call you Molly?" He quirked an eyebrow, sporting a cunning smirk.

"If you must, I suppose we shall grow rather close through my teachings, Sherlock." 

The way her dainty lips said his name was enough to elicit a fire in him. He wanted nothing more than to snog her senseless. His lips began to move to speak with her, but the loud trumpets of the castle heard from even there interrupted. Molly and him waited to here the amount of beats, knowing which means what. After seven beats, Molly's lips parted slightly. 

"Prince William is on the run then?" She smiled gently.

"I suppose so. He is always running off these days," Sherlock smiled a thin lipped smile, probably taken as exhaust from chasing the prince when in reality he was annoyed. He could never go anywhere without his mummy fretting like a mother hen. 

"You better be off then." 

He smiled sadly. "Til morrow, Molly." 

"Til morrow, Sherlock." 

Each said the others name with a flirt in their words and bounce in their step. Sherlock sadly walked from his spot, wanting nothing more than to return to his woman. 

Mine? I have lost it, haven't I? I shall have John draw up some of the latest science reports, that should be vastly entertaining.

Even the emotionally slow man of Sherlock knew his mind would not waver from her.

The days flooded into weeks then into months, the pair had met up nearly every day in their secluded creek. Often times they chatted about everyday life or read the novel Molly had. It was the third month of their meetings, the fifth day of the week and the twelfth hour of the day. 

"The end." Molly said confidently, closing the book and shyly glancing to Sherlock. Their eyes caught one another and Molly felt her breath hitch at the sight. One could never be accustomed to the beauty of Sherlock's eyes. Gold, blue, green, silver. Each color was rich and vast in its rarity. Every one had a faint traces of the others and Molly couldn't decide which color was her favorite or which fit the dazzling man more. Such glorious eyes, such deep whirlpools into the mind of the most intelligent man she had the privilege of meeting. 

Sherlock, propped against the tree beside her rock, pulled two apples from his bag. Molly gasped in surprise and held her apple with delight.

"Such a treat! Where ever did you get this?" Molly's words came out quickly and she rubbed the skin between her fingers. 

"Prince William told me to treat my woman," Sherlock started, fibbing as he spoke. "I suppose he's heard of my undying affection for some mystery woman." 

Molly blushed, biting into the apple. "I'm sure this mystery woman is quite beautiful, no doubt, to catch the attention of one like yourself." 

"Of the most extraordinary beauty. Her eyes are like one painted by the most talented of artists, her skin pale like the moon. She's dainty and strong, with lengthy hair I long to run my hands through. Her intellect is one to behold. Not as wise as I, but a quiet sort. She knows exactly what I speak of and knows exactly what her intentions are in life. Admirable and beautiful are the best ways to describe her. Pray tell, Miss Molly Hooper, what are your interests? I am under the assumption you want to continue your studies in science," Sherlock swiveled the conversation away from anything that could hurt him, unbeknownst to her of course. Molly still flushed under his compliments. 

"I shan't say, Sherlock. I'd run you away," she said with a sly smile as she chewed on the apple. It was sweet and tart, bursting with flavor in between her lips. 

"Hardly so! I myself would pursue the work of a detective. To solve murders would be of the upmost delight," Sherlock cocked an eyebrow and she sat straightly.

"Why can't you pursue your work?" 

Sherlock stiffened, realizing his slight mistake. "I work for the prince, malady." 

"Why, that doesn't mean you shouldn't continue!" Molly was firm in her words. "The prince can't have you work forever, and your intellect clearly surpasses that of our detectives now." 

"I am in debt to the prince. He saved my life, so I must give him mine."

She stood abruptly, her face flushed with anger. "That's ridiculous! Surely you can't spend your whole life under that foolish prince!"

"I am afraid so, malady. You have not answered my previous inquiry. What do you wish to study?" 

Molly pursed her lips but answered the question all the same. "I'd like the study the human body. Pathology is the name they are giving it now." 

Sherlock's lips quirked in their own, pleased to find a woman so confident in herself at this day and age. He relayed such to her, and Molly blushed softly. 

"Sherlock," Molly spoke gently, "I have a suspicion about you." 

He felt nervous but kept his face indifferent. "Pray tell." 

"I don't think you speak truth. You haven't mentioned family or your career with the prince, I'm beginning to think you are lying to me. Are you of nobility yourself or simply fibbing to find yourself reason with me?" Her smile might have been one used to ease Sherlock, but the uncertainty in the dark eyes of hers was impossible to lie. 

"I am lying." He said plainly, observing her reaction. The smile dropped, but she began to feel a flood of curiosity pool inside her. 

"Shall I await for the royal carriage to take me away then?" She giggled mirthfully, but it swiftly faded when Sherlock did not reply in a witty comment of his own. 

"By God," Molly stood quickly, barreling herself as far from Sherlock without falling into the creek. "By God! You, you're Prince William! You deceived me!"

He stood as well, easing his body towards hers. "Oh Miss Molly Hooper, do not feel deceived! I wished to avoid scaring you away!" 

She was angry, and his sultry words that captivated her were no help. "What fire is in mine ears? Can this be true? A prince, humbling himself with a meek citizen! Were you going to wait until you caught me in bed? Some extra coins in a little bet you play with your family? No more! I shall not be taken under such lies as this! If I shall be beheaded for my disgrace upon your name, then so be it. I will not let you belittle me for your own gain." 

Sherlock was beside her in seconds, gingerly holding her arm. "Molly..." 

The venom was deep within her, clouding over her thoughts and judgements. All she could focus on was his plump lips and vulnerable baritone calling to her. With rage, she pummeled forward to meet Sherlock's lips in an act of rage and passion. 

The passion was as exciting for Sherlock as it was for Molly. The two locked lips, Molly still enraged. Sherlock for once thanked the way emotions let walls crumble round you for seconds, and he was pleased to know his Molly felt similarly over their relationship. He wanted nothing more than to kiss her lips over and over, let his tongue explore the depths of her mouth. She felt similarly, lifting her arms to tightly wind themselves round his neck so her fingers may delve into his locks. Molly let her hands fondle the follicles, rolling them in her grasp and pulling slightly to express her still anger. His own arms writhed around her thin waist, fingers straining on the fabric of dress. 

...

"My lords," Molly Hooper's soft voice echoed through the halls of the kingdom in decreasing volume. King Alexander and Prince William sat in their designated spots, Alexander holding the larger seat while William sat with his head held much higher beside him. 

She had received a note in the post the day before to meet the majesties, and her mother strained her last dollars to buy a nicer dress. It was of familiar style to that of what she normally wore, but the color was a soft green and had a much softer material. Her hair was done up extraordinarily with small green gems her neighbor offered up. 

"Miss Hooper," Alexander spoke with resignation in his voice, boring of her already. William, Sherlock to Molly, was already quite enthralled. "It is not me who wishes to speak with you, but my brother. I shall allow you some privacy."

With a gentle curtesy, Molly thanked the elder brother who grunted as he lifted his body from the chair. After everyone left, Sherlock leapt from his chair. 

He had to remain cordial, as was required of his title, but his eyes lingered in a way that made Molly feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.

"I shall not bore you with my descriptions of fancies for you, I have deduced you would rather the raw honesty rather the buttered. I intend to marry you, Margaret Hooper. We will be wed next week, shall you take me. Your family will have their own quarters, and we will both be signing a contract as I do not intend for concubines on either-" 

She pressed a kiss against his lips, letting him know he was talking too much and her answer was plain as day. He smirked, turning towards a guard. 

"Inform Mycroft, I apologize, Alexander that the wedding preparations shall commence."

**Author's Note:**

> There are two references in here, one from a play/book and the other a movie. I’ll give you a hint, they are both Shakespeare esk. Whomever comments with the correct book/play, movie, or both will get a free one shot of their desired prompt. 
> 
> Leave comments with suggestions or thoughts, I love feedback from y’all!!


End file.
